


Awake

by SheegothBait



Series: Getting Stronger [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Gen, Hoodies, Murder, Revenge, Rogue Widowmaker, songfic?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29667738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheegothBait/pseuds/SheegothBait
Summary: The Widowmaker disappears on mission. Despite Talon’s best attempts to find her, they are unable to wrangle the assassin, and she is written off as dead.When she once again appears months later, ready and willing to fight to her dying breath for her independence, she catches one of the Inner Council members off-guard. But is she strong enough to finally break the shackles that bind her?
Series: Getting Stronger [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2180109
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6





	Awake

_My return is a mystery_

_Thought you had control of me_

_I'm offended that you’re so surprised_

_That first defeat was a practice round_

_But I pulled myself off the ground_

_And I've already planned your demise_

-Getting Stronger, Michelle Creber & Black Gryph0n

*******************************************

The serene beauty of Oasis shone red tonight.

The Widowmaker crouched, almost indistinguishable from a bas-relief on one of Oasis’ university buildings, peering up at the regal, modern tower that loomed over the campus through a scope.

_The heart of Oasis._

Part library, part meeting hall, part bunker, the building housed the Ministers and the vast collection of their discoveries. As such an important repository of people and ideas, it had been proofed against fires, earthquakes, hurricane winds, snipers, chemical and biological attacks, and bombs. But she’d been watching this building for a while, and she knew how to get around the defenses.

A tumor grew inside Oasis, and she was here to cut it out.

Motion flitted across her scope. So, the witch _was_ home tonight. She’d been waiting and watching for O’Deorain to return to her roost. She could have taken the scientist out on the streets, but there wasn’t much pattern to when the scientist came and went. Besides, breaking into the high-security building did double duty in proving that Talon wasn’t safe no matter where they took shelter.

She would take them all out one day, but this particular grudge was years in the making.

Moira paused at the wide window, staring down at the campus, her hands in the pockets of her pants. She wasn’t wearing her usual button-down shirts and tailored pants, but a baggy light gray hoodie and sweatpants that hung so loose on her it looked like she was wearing flags. She stood there for a moment, observing her domain with a pleased smirk. Widowmaker twitched, seething silently, but tamped down the urge to pull the trigger. The glass was resistant to .50-cal rounds; firing would only alert her that someone was trying to kill her.

After a long moment, the scientist moved past the window frame. The Widowmaker watched for a while but she did not re-emerge.

Light as a feather, Widow bounded across the rooftops, heedless of the long drop to the pavement below, then leapt to the tree nearest the building and skipped, squirrel-like, across the branches, aiming her grappling hook at one of the balcony railings. Without breaking her momentum, she burst from the tree and dove into open space. Her grappling hook twanged like a giant guitar string as it stopped her descent, her shoulder shrieking as the muscles and tendons took her weight. But her augmented body held together, and she swung across, landing as lightly as a spider on the railing.

She slipped onto the balcony and examined the window frame. Undoubtedly no one else would spot the tiny vibration sensors on the glass, but to her the pale moon was bright as midday. Of course they wouldn’t think they needed anything else; the security was extremely tight at the base of the tower, and the tower itself had a clear view for miles. O’Deorain had told her about the security measures at least once before during a particularly tumultuous meeting that she’d summoned both her and Reaper for as bodyguards. Poor Gabriel and his mistaken concerns for the scientist’s safety. Still, it had served her purposes.

She paused for a moment. _What about Gabriel?_ He was sick and still needed _her_.

….But there were better options now. They could find, threaten if they had to, someone to help him.

With a hand so steady not even a surgeon could match it, she took her knife and stripped away the outer casing of the sensor, exposing a pair of filament-thin wires wrapped in electrical insulation. She slid her knife beneath the red one and sliced it with a single decisive motion.

The alarm was down.

She paused a moment and pressed her ear to the glass. Water was running somewhere in the apartment, which meant O’Deorain was occupied. She withdrew a laser glass cutter and made a neat hole in the glass, letting the cut piece down as carefully as possible. She slipped inside O’Deorain’s apartment and looked around, gripping her knife reassuringly.

Apartment wasn’t the right word, but penthouse sounded closer.

A thick carpet patterned in monochrome squares muffled her footsteps as she paused and gathered her bearings. The scientist appeared not to have decorated; Widowmaker saw no personal effects…or much of anything really to suggest the place was inhabited. No photos, no plants, no trinkets. Not a pillow out of place. The dustless granite countertops held neither food nor utensils. It was all so tidy, unlike the lab that she’d come to know far too well. This place must be a temporary living quarters for the witch. She had to do it tonight then, despite her misgivings. She squeezed her knife.

She _would_ do it tonight.

She took a few steps towards the closed bedroom door and heard movement, the quiet snap of a door. Footsteps approached, and he noticed, too late, the baggy hoodie bunched in the armchair next to her.

The door swung open, and Moira O’Deorain stepped into the room, her lean form framed in soft yellow light. For half a moment she seemed not to see Widow. Then her eyes travelled back to the spot Widow occupied and hovered there, her features blank with shock.

The Widowmaker lunged.

The scientist stumbled backward, barely avoiding the stab at her heart, and fell to the floor. Widow aimed another stab at her, but the scientist wraithed from her grasp and struck her hard across the back. She fell, twisting like a cat in the air so that she faced her creator. The woman stared, managing only one strangled word.

“You!”

She leapt to her feet, barely touching the carpet, and lashed out. O’Deorain caught her knife in one hand, taking a vicious punch across the mouth and collapsing again to the carpet with Widow’s knife. Widow let her pick up the weapon, scramble to her feet, and wipe the blood from her split lip.

“You seem surprised I’m here, _docteur._ You disgust me.”

Moira’s eyes narrowed. “Code 47.”

Widow braced herself for the effects of the subliminal coding. Nothing happened. In desperation, the scientist flew at her. The assassin flung her into the armchair.

“Nice try,” Widow sneered, landing a solid punch to O’Deorain’s throat. Moira sunk to her knees, wheezing and clutching her neck. Widowmaker picked up the knife.

“I only wish I could kill you more than once. You have so much to answer for.”

The scientist slipped away like smoke, and Widow turned, scanning the room. Spluttering came from behind the counter. Widow sauntered over, taking her time. O’Deorain wasn’t going anywhere.

The scientist huddled on the tile, shuddering and out of breath. She looked up at Widow, her eyes glinting faintly in the light, her expression downright monstrous.

“I’m the reason you’re still alive, girl,” she gasped.

“Did you ever bother asking me what _I_ wanted?”

“Your will has nothing to do with it. You’re Talon’s, and if you kill me they will terminate you.”

“You think that still matters to me?” Widow hissed. “If they’re going to murder me, I’m taking as many of them with me as I can.”

For the first time, O’Deorain’s fearless mask slipped a little, making her look somehow diminished as Widow closed in.

“Gabriel,” she said, her voice hoarse and hurried. “He dies if you kill me.”

“There are other options.” The assassin spun the knife. “Better options.”

Raw fear flooded the scientist’s face, and again she faded. She’d caught up a small device on her bed before the Widowmaker struck, impaling her from behind.

O’Deorain went rigid.

Widowmaker gave the knife a savage twist, watching with detached satisfaction as the woman’s hands rose in slow motion, grasping at the handle protruding from her side. The geneticist sagged in her arms, a red plume blooming on her perfect clothing. Widow yanked the knife out and took a step back as the scientist keeled over in slow motion.

“Adieu,” she said, addressing the room at large rather than the dying woman.

She spat on the corpse, turned on her heel, and vanished back through the hole. It wouldn't do to stick around; security was coming. She slipped the stolen hoodie on as she vanished into the night.

Gabriel had a point; they were very comfortable.

************************

She found Gabriel a few weeks later in a bar outside of Monaco, slipping quietly up behind him and pressing the very knife she’d used on the scientist to his ribs. She knew it was an empty threat, but it got him to privacy at least. Anyone else who tried it would have their skull crushed. He whirled on her the instant she prodded him into the shadows of an alley, then stopped, recognizing her.

“What?” He growled sharply at her.

“That’s all you have to say? _How_ long has it been since we’ve seen each other?”

“I could still turn you in.”

“You wouldn’t. I have something for you.” She reached into her knapsack and pulled out the hoodie, holding it out to him. He took it, turning it over.

“This is Moira’s. Where did you get it?” He asked sharply.

“She doesn’t need it anymore.”

He hissed. “So it was your fault. I heard stories...” He drew himself up, towering over her. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

She did not step back. “I’ve freed you. Think on it,” she said.

He stared at her hard, and as she turned and vanished back into the night, she could feel his gaze following her.

When she looked back, he was still standing there, holding onto the hoodie, a shadow in the solitary flare of a streetlamp.

**Author's Note:**

> So I heard the song "Getting Stronger" by Michelle Creber and Black Gryph0n and had to write this. Also based on Target Practice dubbed by Cassie VA. Hope you enjoyed!


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